When You Dream
by XtinethePirate
Summary: One-shot. Another Gundam attack at an Oz base leaves Treize working late. He gets home to find his lover already asleep. What do soldiers dream about?


August 21, 2004

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gundam Wing, or any of its characters. I merely own Studio Sunrise. The End.  
  
((And, thus smiling, Xtine gets dragged off to jail, where she continues to plague ff.n with her "creativity"....))  
  
This fic is dedicated to Sunny Dragoness (again ) for suggesting I write a _nice_ one about the two of them for a change... preferably one where everybody is still alive. Also for Zanne-chan, me sis, who thinks Treize is "too damn honourable for his own good", and who hates it when I'm mean to him.  
  
Apologies for extremely rough draft of fic... must be edited when I'm not feeling so lazy. Umeko-chan??? [[hopeful smile]] you up for it? Suggestions would be nice, as long as they're phrased _nicely_

**When You Dream**

With a muffled groan, Treize pushed his chair back and stretched, rubbing one hand over his eyes. It was late; the Oz compound already deserted save for a few soldiers on the night shift. More soldiers then usual – there had been another Gundam attack that day.

Treize sighed, turning back to his computer screen, glowing a faint blue in the dark of his office. Gundam attacks meant more paperwork, more explanations to stuffy aristocrats who had never once seen combat...

...More soldiers dead for the sake of a dream.

He had started immediately after the media had been..._escorted_...from the premises, earlier in the afternoon. Now it was nearly dawn. Treize frowned as his stomach chose to remind him that he hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning. Ignoring that, he resumed typing his report to Duke Dermail – the worst of his current problems. His uncle wouldn't see the price of the day's battle in human lives and morale; no, he would only see the cost of repairing another base, supplying more Mobile Suits....

Treize couldn't stand the man.

A quiet knock came on the door.

"Come in." Treize answered distractedly, his voice rough from disuse.

Lady Une poked her head around the door, arching one eyebrow. With a half smile, she flicked on the light – something her Commander had neglected to do, intent on his work as he was.

Treize flinched, squinting in the sudden brilliance. "Lady?"

Une slowly walked around his desk, placing her elegant hands on the General's shoulders. "You've been working for over 10 hours, Your Excellency."

Treize turned his head to face her, a faint smile crossing his tired face. "Has it really been that long, Lady?"

"It's 0300, sir."

"Ah."

Une chuckled, looking past him to the illuminated computer screen. "You're informing your uncle of the day's events, I assume?"

Treize looked momentarily disgusted, "He seeks to play a game of politics with me... the man has no subtlety. I need to soothe his damaged ego whenever something like this could reflect badly upon him."

"So you'll take the blame yourself, Excellency?"

Treize didn't answer. With one hand, he reached out, and closed the laptop.

"How many?"

Lady Une set a piece of paper down on the desk in front of her Commander. "72 dead, sir; another 88 wounded. These are their names, General."

Treize closed his eyes as his Lady recited the names of the fallen solemnly, referring to her own list. So many more dead.... There was one name he dreaded hearing above all others. Even as he committed the new names to heart, he prayed that, once again, there would be one that was absent.

"...Lieutenant Smith; Lieutenant Terent; Captain Taine..."

Every single one, committed to heart. He never forgot those who died for his sake.

"...and Colonel Merquise..."

His heart froze.

"...was wounded in the combat, sir."

_((Thank God.))_

Lady Une smiled softly, feeling her heart twist painfully. She loved Treize Khushrenada, loved him deeply, and with all her heart. It wasn't meant to be. She knew where his heart lay... and she had seen the look of momentary panic that had broken his careful façade at the mention of Zechs' name. Even now, his worry was very poorly concealed.

She bent to kiss his cheek, startling him with the unprecedented show of affection.

"He's fine, Treize. Lieutenant Noin forced him to go home and get some rest. He's probably worrying himself sick about _you_, sir."

A fond smile touched his lips.

Une hid a smile, walking him to the door. The early morning air was cool, hinting of rain to come. The night sky was clear, stars shining brightly as though in regret for the fire and smoke the day had brought. War would tear the Earth apart soon... Romafeller would tear apart the man she loved first. He deserved what happiness he could find.  
  
_((The rest of the world may damn them, but I would die before I came between them. Take care of him, Zechs....))_

"Goodnight, Your Excellency." 

.......................... 

The rain started shortly after, clouds drawing their misty veils over the stars' lights, whispering down in soft, silken sheets of water. It drummed against the windows of the study, beading into tears against the slick glass.

Zechs glanced at his watch, and sighed. 0330. Treize wouldn't be coming home before the sun rose.

"Bastard's probably working himself to death."

He glanced back down at his book, but couldn't concentrate on the words. They shifted and swam before his eyes, making him blink rapidly. His eyes were drawn inexorably back to the window, seeking the sudden flash of headlights. He had read the same paragraph four times....

Grumbling, he stretched out on the couch, rubbing at his eyes. They itched abominably... he had been reading for too long. It was just that he was tired, though, he told himself, he didn't _really_ need those glasses....

His eyelids grew heavier as he stared at the page in front of him.

"I'll just close them for a moment... I'll hear him come in..."

He was asleep before he'd even finished his sentence. 

......................... 

Treize closed the door quietly, feeling the heavy silence of the house weighing upon his shoulders. It was too quiet at night, with only the steady drumming of rain on the roof providing a descant to the rhythm of his footsteps against the floor.

A light was showing underneath the library door. Zechs was up reading again. It seemed that he spent all his time there these days; escaping more and more into a world away from the fires consuming his own.

Treize slipped through the doorway effortlessly, shoes making no sound on the thick carpeting.

He smiled at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Zechs was sprawled on the couch in front of the fireplace, his book fallen to the ground beside him. Treize picked it up off the ground, smirking slightly as he read the title.

"_Jingo; a Novel of Discworld..." _he murmured, shaking his head. He would never understand Zechs' taste in books. He closed the novel carefully, setting it aside on the coffee table. Zechs had pushed his glasses – which he would never admit he needed to _anyone_ – back off his face. Treize sighed in fond exasperation, gently pulling them off, taking exquisite care to ensure they didn't snarl his lover's beautiful hair.

"Baka," he whispered, tracing his fingers lightly along the side of Zechs' face. "You need to be more careful." There were new bruises curving across Zechs' ribs, new wounds zigzagged with spiky black stitches. He had been badly injured in this fight... not that he would ever admit to it. Zechs was too proud, too impulsive; dangerous traits in a soldier. 

Treize brushed a loose strand of hair of the younger man's face. "What would I do if I lost you?"

Zechs sighed in his sleep, shifting slightly on the narrow couch. He was smiling, lost in a world of his own.

Sitting down next to the couch, Treize leaned in closer so that their foreheads touched; so he could feel his lover's soft breathing like a caress. He ran his hand through the long golden hair that was strewn casually over the couch cushions.

"What do you dream about, I wonder...?" Looking so peaceful, so _young_... the boy was only 19...a child who had seen too much of war and death. Treize regretted that more than anything else.

His lips brushed Zechs' forehead lightly. "I always dream of you."

Rising, he grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair, gently covering up the sleeping man, careful not to disturb his rest. Sitting down on the chair, feeling his own eyes grow heavy, he smiled as he watched his lover sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Zechs."  
  
-----END------

Ok, so it's pure fluff, and it was written on the spur of the moment with no thoughts or plot worked out before hand, but hey! It's Zechs and it's Treize, so they're cute, right??? And I _could_ have had Treize be in a car accident or something, and Zechs waking up, and him not being there and sad stuff, but I managed to refrain! . Though that would have been a good ending too....

Treize: [glowers at Xtine] Why is it that _I'm_ always the one to die?

Zechs: [smirks] Cuz she's in love with _me_.

Xtine: Ya know, he's got a point.... 

Well, indulge the insanity, and pleez leave a review.


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